Indecent Games Duet - Boxed Set

by Clarissa Wild

  Although it is very unusual for my parents because they don’t normally do this kind of thing … they’re normally only busy with themselves. They always badger me about my education and about whether I’ve found a better job. I’m sure they’ll do that exact same thing now too, but I just ignore it.

  I ring the doorbell, and my mom opens it with a big smile.

  “Hyun! Finally,” Mom says in Korean. She grabs me by the arm and pulls me inside. “I thought you’d make us wait forever.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I ran a little late because of work.”

  “You mean that coffee shop you work at?” She takes my coat.

  “Yeah, had a busy day.”

  She sighs. “Hyun, when are you going to find a better job?”

  I roll my eyes. “Not now, Mom … please.”

  She shrugs. “Well, you can’t keep doing this.”

  “It’s my birthday, Mom. Let’s celebrate, okay?” I give her a smile in an attempt to defuse the situation.

  “Fine …” She walks past me and goes to the kitchen.

  A crowd meets me and stops me from following her. Everyone wants to shake my hand. Uncles, aunts, distant cousins. They’re all here, and I’ve not seen them in ages. It’s funny how fast time goes when you have a job and are trying to make something of your life. You often forget about things like this.

  My mom suddenly appears from the crowd with a piece of cake. “Happy birthday!” She kisses me on the cheeks and pushes the plate into my hand. “Enjoy.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I say, greedily taking a bite.

  “Your gift is waiting for you at the table,” she says, winking and gesturing for me to follow her.

  Frowning, I look up and walk with her, wondering what she means.

  But then I see a man in a suit standing at the table with his back toward us … and the moment he turns around, I almost drop the cake.

  “Hello, Hyun.”

  It’s Gregory Warren.

  His voice sends a cold shiver down my spine. “Happy birthday.”

  “Gregory …” I shift back to speaking English.

  “Call me Greg,” he says, grabbing my free hand to kiss the back.

  I quickly take it back and wipe it on my shirt. “What are you doing here?”

  “He’s a guest, sweetie, be nice,” my mom sneers in her best English. “I invited him.”

  “How—”

  “We know each other from work,” my father interjects, patting Gregory on the back of the shoulder. “He’s actually my boss, but we consider each other friends. Right, Greg?”

  “But … I thought you worked …”

  “At the biggest bank in town, remember?” Dad says. “Are you all right, honey?”

  No. I’m not all right.

  I feel sick to my stomach, but I won’t tell them that.

  “Let me take that for you …” Greg takes the plate of cake from my hand and places it on the table behind him. Then he grabs both my hands and says, “You look like you could use some good news.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, trying to pull my hands from his, but he won’t let go.

  He leans in and sniffs awkwardly. “You smell like … coffee.”

  “I work at a coffee shop,” I reply, finally managing to pull my hands from his grip.

  “Oh … No wonder. I’m sure you could use a jumpstart, don’t you?”

  “What?” I frown. “I love my job.”

  “Of course, you do.” He folds his arms. “But maybe I can fix you up with a better job … What do you think about being a bank employee?”

  “A bank employee?” I make a face. “No, thanks.”

  “Aww … well, what about …” He mulls it over for a second, rubbing his chin. “I know!” He snaps his fingers. “What about a librarian?”

  “Librarian? Where’d you get that from?” I ask.

  “Oh, yes!” Mom squeals. “You like books, right?”

  “Um … yeah, but—” I mutter.

  “It’s a step up from being a barista,” Dad says.

  “I personally know the head librarian at the local library here in town, so he and I can have a quick chat. I can get you the job easily,” Greg says with a smirk. “Interested?”

  My dad throws his arm over my shoulder and pulls me in for a close hug. “Of course, she is. Right, honey?” He gazes at me. “This is one opportunity you don’t want to miss.”

  I know what my parents want.

  I also know this sounds too good to be true.

  Yes, I love books and reading. Of course, I’d love to work in a place where they can surround me all day long. If only it didn’t feel so damn wrong. Like a lie I just can’t believe. Why would he pick me?

  “She’ll take you up on the offer,” my mom suddenly says, grabbing Greg’s arm as if it seals the deal. “You’re so kind.”

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure.” Greg gloats. “I want only the best for my friends … and their beautiful daughter.” His eyes are like those of a hawk, honing in on me like prey.

  “Greg is such a nice young man, don’t you agree?” my mom asks me gleefully.

  With furrowed brows, I answer, “I guess …”

  “Hyun …” Dad murmurs.

  “Don’t worry. She’ll get used to me,” Greg says, chuckling.

  Slowly, but surely, it begins to dawn on me.

  My eyes widen, and my jaw drops.

  “You know, Greg’s still on the market,” Mom whispers.

  She doesn’t need to tell me. I already know.

  Just like I know why he was invited. Why my parents lured me here. Why I was suddenly offered a job. And why my parents seem so fond of this creepy man who is anything but young compared to me.

  They want me to be his.

  “No …” I say, soft, but sternly.

  My parents look at me as if they just saw a ghost. “What did you say, honey?” Dad asks.

  “I said no.”

  My mom cocks her head, and the confused look on her face suddenly changes to cold-hearted rage. “You will do what he says. We’ve already made up our minds.”

  “What?” I cringe.

  My father swallows and looks me directly in the eye. “We think Greg is a suitable match.”

  I shake my head. I can’t believe this is happening. Can’t believe this is real.

  “No …”

  “It’s not up to you,” Mom says.

  The dreaded word slips from her lips. Seon. The Korean word for arranged marriage.

  They say arranged marriages don’t exist in the modern world, but people are wrong. It happens every day, even in the most civilized countries. And now, it’s happening to me.

  Tears well up in my eyes. “So you’re saying I have no say in my own life?”

  They remain as rigid as I remember them to be whenever they’re angry. Their only interest in my life has been how they could make me the star of the family. The proud asset. A girl who would do their bidding and give them everything they wanted. Like a mountain of gold they could sit on, easily persuaded to do anything to get their hands on more, more, more. And now, they’ve found a way.

  “Honey, we think this is in your best interest.”

  “No!”

  All the guests have turned quiet, and I can feel their eyes pierce my back.

  “Let me do the talking …” Greg says, and he tries to approach me. “Listen … Hyun … we both like each other. Let’s not make this any more difficult.”

  “You can’t be serious …” I look at my parents, and I see my mother’s hand disappear into her pockets. She’s touching something inside, I can see it, and it can only mean one thing.

  Money.

  Tears run down my cheeks as I shake my head and scream, “I thought you loved me.”

  “We do, honey. We love you so, so much. That’s why we think you’ll be great with Greg.”

  “Don’t say that!” I yell. “I’ve never had a worse birthday in my entire life,” I say, turning around and walking
away.

  “Hyun …”

  Mom throws some Korean swear words at me while I run up the stairs, but I block everything out.

  For now, I’ll hide in my old room for as long as I can. Once all the guests have left, I can run down and escape too. I won’t let him have me. I can’t let it happen.

  I rush in and slam the door shut. My mom bangs on it, but I don’t open up. I walk backward until my back hits the wall, where I sink to my knees and cuddle myself, letting my tears run free.

  I feel weak, vulnerable, afraid.

  And this door is my only protection against him and my family as they barter me off like goods.

  ***

  Accompanying Song: “Logos” by Ludovico Einaudi

  Now

  The water from the shower rushes down my face. I try to forget the memories clouding my mind, but they keep coming back to the forefront. It often happens when I’m home alone.

  I tell myself it’s in the past. That I’m still here, alive.

  But it doesn’t take away the pain inside my heart.

  What my parents did to me was the pinnacle of their greed. All those years they used me for their own gain—and then gave me away to a man I didn’t even know. That was the icing on the cake.

  But that was then, and this is now.

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes, letting my mouth catch the warm water.

  Suddenly, I hear a clicking noise.

  My eyes open wide, water still gushing down, and I turn off the faucet and listen.

  No more clicking, but I swear I heard something, so I grab a towel and wrap it around my body as I step out of the shower. The first thing I do is walk to my kitchen and take a knife from the drawer. Then I search my house, yelling, “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  No response.

  Of course, not. It’s all in my head.

  Still, I check all the rooms in the house until I’ve confirmed I’m alone.

  But then I reach the front door … and I twist the handle, opening it without much trouble.

  I forgot to lock it.

  My hand instinctively covers my mouth as it slowly opens wide, creaking loudly. Something tickles beneath my feet. A chill runs up and down my spine the moment I look down and see an envelope lying on the floor.

  I pick it up and look around the neighborhood. I don’t even care that a passerby walking her dog sees me in only a towel. I smile and wave awkwardly, which only increases her pace.

  I grab the door handle and pull back, allowing it to close. The sound of it reverberates in my ears … the same clicking noise I heard when I was in the shower.

  Someone was here.

  5.

  Accompanying Song: “Hungry Like The Wolf” by Snow Hill

  Drake

  From the living room, I can hear the shower running. I step closer to the only light source in the house, my heart practically beating out of my chest from excitement. She’s so close; I could almost taste her. I could almost take her.

  I shouldn’t.

  Yet I can’t stop myself from inching closer with every passing second.

  It’s as if my feet gravitate toward her. My mind can no longer stop my body from approaching, even if it’s wrong on all levels.

  I watch her shower. Through the curtains, I can see the silhouette of her body, and sometimes, her skin peeks through the gap. Her body looks like silk, so smooth. Her olive skin so deliciously appetizing, I want to lick it.

  I stop myself before I go too far.

  I already went past the moral line when I came all over her window.

  Standing near the door to her bathroom, I admire her from a distance, listening to the water cascading down her skin. She massages herself with oils, and the scent is intoxicating. I feel the warmth prickle on my skin, and at this moment, I wonder if she’ll ever want me.

  If it’d ever be okay to talk to her.

  To touch her.

  To be with her.

  The more I watch her, the more I want from her. I’m physically incapable of staying away. I feel my best when I’m close to her. I only desire to give her everything she needs. I don’t want to hurt her, yet I know she has every reason to fear me.

  She’s fragile. Emotionally drained. Used.

  Smacked around like a wet rag by a man who didn’t know his own strength.

  Her man.

  He likes beating things senseless. It makes him feel powerful. Better than her.

  Calling the cops is useless; they’re in his pocket, and she knows that too. That’s why she never did a thing to stop it. That’s why she ran away from him.

  She ran and ran …

  But both of us know you can never run away from a lie.

  ***

  Accompanying Song: “Violent Delights Have Violent Ends” by Ramin Djawadi

  Hyun

  The note ends suddenly. It’s the first handwritten one, but the letters aren’t normal; they’re blocky. And the final words seem scratchy … like they ended swiftly because he had to go. As if he realized the longer he stayed, the bigger the chance of his discovery.

  I shiver and swallow as I realize he was there the whole time I was naked and didn’t say a word.

  If I’d known he was there …

  I don’t even want to think about it.

  But still … his comment about not being able to call the cops is too close for comfort.

  I feel like he knows more than he’s letting on. Like he’s been watching me longer than I thought. And it irks me … because he’s right.

  When I first called 911 and the cops came to my house, Greg sweet-talked them into forgetting the whole thing ever happened. He made them believe I was lying. That I was upset because of a fight and didn’t mean to keep them busy. They believed him, and not just that … when they were gone, Greg told me they’d never listen to me. He’d bought them all off. And he said if I ever called them again, I’d be sorry. Just like that, my life was no longer safe. No longer my own. That night … he even forced me to lay down on his lap so he could spank me until my skin was blood red.

  I shake my head and force the memories from my head. I will not give him power over me anymore. My self-worth is my own, and no one can touch that.

  Someone wants to send me messages? Fine. I’ll keep them. Besides, I don’t have anything else to lose. I don’t feel threatened. I know what that feels like because I lived it for months, but this … this is something different.

  In a weird way, I’m flattered someone would go through this much trouble to be with me. Even going so far as to enter my home without my knowledge. Yet he still hasn’t made a move. All he’s done is watch me … and I don’t know why, but the thought doesn’t even creep me out anymore. I don’t think he really wants to harm me. It sounds more like a deep-seated need to be with me.

  So I take the note with me and place it on the stack I’ve collected. Then I grab a folder and stuff them all inside so I can keep them together. I won’t throw them out. I won’t show them to the police. I want to see where this trail of crumbs leads. Even if it’s dangerous or bad… I don’t care. Why? Because it’s my choice. The one and only choice in my life I’ve made by myself.

  Besides, these notes might be useful … one day.

  ***

  A few days later

  As I walk out the door to go on a morning jog, I notice a second car parked in my driveway, and it isn’t mine.

  I stop and pull my earbuds from my ears, the music still ringing as I stare at the car in front of me.

  “Morning!”

  I look up and see my next-door neighbor Lorelei watering her plants. She smiles and waves with soil-covered hands, so I smile back and say, “Good morning.”

  “Got some visitors?”

  I frown. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, I just thought … well, looking at the car, I figured you and Greg might be back together again.”

  My heart stops beating for a second, and I vehemently shake my head.


  “Oh … But … what’s his car doing there then?”

  For a second, I’m surprised she knows what his car looks like, but then I remember showing her a few pictures that I carried in my wallet just so she’d know who to look for if he came back to get me.

  “I don’t know …” I sigh and look around, but I don’t see anyone except us.

  Lorelei puts down her rake and says, “Now that I think about it, I did see someone when I walked into my shed a half-hour ago to grab some tools. Some guy wearing a hoodie and a long coat. He went into the forest behind our homes.”

  My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. All I can do is hope that it wasn’t Greg.

  “Maybe it was him,” she adds, only unnerving me more.

  I nod and take a deep breath. “Thanks.” I turn around and start walking to the forest.

  “Are you going to follow him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good luck.” I hear Lorelei’s voice behind me, but I no longer respond.

  My heart is racing, and my head is too busy trying to make sense of this. Trying not to panic.

  If Greg is really out there … what is he doing here? I have to know if it’s him.

  Despite being scared shitless, I still tread through the fallen leaves and over the rotting branches, making my way through the dense forest. The sky almost seems pitch-black from here, as if the day has suddenly turned to night.

  A twig snaps underneath my foot, and then I hear a rustling noise in front of me.

  I rush past the trees and come to an open area with a small pool of water in the middle. “Is anyone there?” I call out, my voice hampering. Fading into nothingness.

  The light hooting of a bird, possibly an owl, is my only response.

  However, something peculiar draws my attention. A string hangs from a low branch of a tree on the other side of the pool. Before I do anything, I look around and check if anyone’s there, but I don’t see a soul or hear a thing.